


Lost and Found

by M_E_Lover, oddgit



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Being Lost, FinchWhump, M/M, Plane Crash, ReeseWhump, Stranded, fluff at the end, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10976295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_E_Lover/pseuds/M_E_Lover, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddgit/pseuds/oddgit
Summary: It hit him like a train… he and Harold were flying to a cabin that Harold owned for a vacation when the controls had failed… Harold.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So M_E_Lover and I decided to try out something different with this whole stranded and plane crash idea! It came to me after I watched the Grey's Anatomy episode with them going through a plane crash.  
> Special thanks to M_E_Lover for all the encouragement and also for being a co-author!  
> Hope you enjoy!

John woke up dazed and confused. His vision was blurry and his ears were ringing.

He blinked, tried to clear the fogginess. All his past training had told him to get up and get ready to fight. Survey your surroundings and find out how the hell you got into this mess.

His head hurt. He finally cleared his vision and looked around. He was in the woods… but he couldn’t remember how he got… a plane… he saw what looked like the remnants of a small plane. Then it hit him like a train… he and Harold were flying to a cabin that Harold owned for a vacation when the controls had failed…

_Harold._

John staggered to his feet, falling down several times before he managed to stand upright. He looked around, searching for any signs of his partner.

“Harold?!” He yelled, “Finch!”

Nothing.

He stumbled over to a tree, holding onto it to make sure he remained standing, “Finch!” He tried again.

He looked around and scanned the vast area. Just as he was about to give up and collapse into a heap because his leg was killing him and his head was starting to spin again… he saw him.

Harold was lying in a heap about 20 feet away. He ran as fast as he could over to his partner, “Finch,” he started, “Finch, hey you okay?” John knelt down next to the smaller unconscious man and immediately put his fingers to Harold’s throat, checking for a pulse.

It was faint but there. He nudged him, “Harold…”

Harold took in a sharp inhalation of breath and his eyes flew open in panic. Before John could do anything, Harold was thrashing his arms around, “John? John! Where is he? John!” The older man was obviously not aware of what was going on.

“Harold, hey it’s me. I’m here…” John grabbed his partner’s arms and gently put them down by his side, “do you remember what happened?”

“What… what do you mean?” Harold looked around, “where are we?”

The ex-op frowned, “Harold you’re in shock…” John grabbed the thick black framed glasses that had fallen off and placed them gently back over his partner’s face. He was amazed that they hadn’t broken. “We were in a plane crash. Do you remember that?”

“N… no…” Harold stammered. He looked absolutely terrified. “John… you’re bleeding…” Harold wiped a streak of blood from John’s head. He had a fairly large gash on his forehead right under his hairline.

“Come on…” John went to help the older man stand but was met with resistance when Harold grabbed his shoulder and screamed in pain. John hadn’t even noticed that it was dislocated until then.

Harold took a deep breath in and looked to his partner, “do it…”

“Are you sure? I can stabilize it and…”

“Do it, John,” Harold said with steel in his voice.

John put both hands on either side of Harold’s shoulder. He looked to his partner one last time for reassurance… After he received a pained nod, he pushed in and up, effectively popping the shoulder back into its socket. Harold let out a loud pained wail… echoing off the mountains that surrounded them.

John took off his jacket and made a make-shift sling. He helped Harold ease it over his head, put his arm in and helped him stand up until he was steady on his feet.

They slowly made their way over to what was left of the plane, “we need to gather all that we can use. Water, first aid kit, any food, blankets…” John was riffling through everything on the plane.

Harold just gaped at the carnage, “I… the controls failed… I tried to land it in an opening but then one of the engines went out… I don’t know what could have happened.”

John’s head dropped, “I know.”

Harold kept rambling, “How could this have happened? I double checked everything before we left…”

John stood up and went over to the smaller man, “Harold.” He put his hands on either side of Harold’s face, “I need you to focus. We need to gather supplies. We don’t know where we are… how long we’re going to be here… or if anyone knows we’re out here.”

Harold’s eyes grew wide… perhaps just now realizing the direness of the situation.

John let out a breath and his head fell, “but we’re going to get out of here and get help… we just have to…” John paused, put his hand to his head and swayed a bit.

“John?” Harold asked gently.

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “I’m fine… we need to get this stuff ready and then I’m going to check you out… make sure nothing else is wrong.” John started to dig through the mess again that surrounded the plane. Harold noticed the limp John had and was a little curious about it but didn’t press him on it.

Harold joined him. About ten minutes in, they had a pile of bottled water, blankets and food from the kit that Harold had on the plane in case of emergencies. “Never thought in a million years that I would need this…” Harold said as he tossed it over to John.

“Well, it’s a good thing you always think ahead Finch.” John had spotted both of their suitcases that were near the site of the crash. Finch’s was lying in a shallow stream, luckily most of the clothes inside were still dry.

All of a sudden, John collapsed and he let out a cry of pain. His leg had given out from underneath him, sending him straight to the ground.

Harold hurried over to him, “John!” He knelt next to him and ripped open his pant leg to find a piece of shrapnel protruding from his thigh. “Oh, my…”

John looked down and rolled his eyes, “damn it,” he huffed. “Finch please get me a bottle of water… one of my white t-shirts and the first aid kit.”

Harold went over and grabbed all the materials that he needed, “here…” He got back down next to his partner.

“Okay… pour some of the water over it…” Harold did as he was instructed, cringing at the sight of water and blood mixture dripping off his leg in a gruesome pink stream. John gripped the edge of the metal shard, “It’s not very deep… so I’m just gonna slowly pull it out. When I do, I need you to put the shirt over my leg to stop the blood flow.”

John took a deep breath and started to remove the shrapnel; when it came all the way out, blood started to ooze from the wound. Harold quickly put the cotton t-shirt over his thigh and grabbed bandages from the first aid kit. He applied anti-bacterial cream on the area that would lay over the gash and nodded to John to remove the shirt.

He applied the bandage and wrapped it around John’s thigh firmly. Once John was all patched up, Harold breathed a sigh of relief. John chuckled, “It’s just a flesh wound, Harold…”

“I have pain killers in my briefcase if we can find it. I knew I should have kept them on me… damn it.”  They scanned the area without any luck; the briefcase was nowhere to be found.

John probably wouldn’t take any even if they could find them but Finch would need them soon.

Although Harold was in extreme pain from his shoulder and a head wound beneath his hairline… that neither men seem to have noticed… he wouldn’t have taken anything for it at the moment either but soon it would be a necessity.

Harold had taken a certain regimen of medication for years now, ever since the ferry bombing and his body would soon require its evening dose.

John was never aware of just what Harold took on a daily basis; he trusted his partner to take care of himself in whatever way was necessary to keep himself as pain-free as possible and never questioned Harold’s dependence on the potent pain-killers.

John had never, in all the time they have worked together, had occasion to question Harold’s mental acuity. The medication that he needed never became an issue in any regard.

“Harold… rest a bit and I’ll walk around the perimeter and find your briefcase.”

“Are you out of your mind? You sit, I’m not the one with the leg injury, John.”

“Maybe not Harold but you dislocated your shoulder… remember?” Finch shook his head, “I’m stronger than I look and I don’t walk with my shoulder, I’ll just have to be careful… don’t concern yourself with me.”

“It’s going to be getting dark soon; we have supplies that will get us through for a while but it’s still going to get cold. We’ll need to huddle up around the fire.”

“Speaking of fire, I will collect some wood while I look around the area for my briefcase while you work on making some tinder from what’s available.”

John smiled at his partner, “tinder? You know about building fires, Harold?” John grinned at the affronted look on Finch’s face.

“Believe it or not John, I was a boy scout once upon a time.” He grinned proudly. “Of course, I only made it through the first month. It was terribly hot and messy and there were no electronics… it was hell actually now that I think about it but I did learn what is needed to build a fire so I guess it wasn’t all for not.” He grinned again and began limping towards the tree line.

John laughed at his partner, “I shouldn’t have been surprised,” he called towards him as he disappeared into the woods.


	2. Chapter 2

Harold brought back some dry wood a while later but wasn’t able to find his briefcase. John had successfully gathered enough tinder for them to start a fire. He had also assembled some of the disassembled plane parts and tree brush to make a small shelter for them.

Harold couldn’t hide the look of amazement he had on his face at what his partner was able to accomplish in such a short interval, “The army and CIA spent _a lot_ of time and money teaching me how to survive, Harold…” He chuckled at the older man.

Harold huffed and sat down gingerly onto a blanket that John had laid out. John set to portion out some of the food they had already. He tossed Harold a small bag of peanuts and some granola.

“We need to ration as much as we can…” John grabbed a bag of each for himself as well, “I’ll see what I can do as far as fishing or something in the morning…” He sat down next to Harold and scooted close.

Harold looked at his partner, “do you really think we’ll be here that long? Surely Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw must be wondering why we haven’t checked in with them by now…” He said. Hoping that the two women would find them soon. The sinking feeling in his stomach was somehow not very promising. 

John looked to Harold and the side of his mouth quirked up, “yeah… I know, I’m just making sure we take precautions… just in case.” John had been stranded before... but it was with some of the other men in his platoon. Not with Harold who had a dislocated shoulder and could barely walk. He was more worried for his partner than for himself. 

“Okay,” Harold replied and tried to open the bag of granola… but failed. He looked to John who took the bag and opened it for the older man and handed it back grinning.

#

“Okay, the wood is nice and dry and there should be enough around the area to get us through a few days if it came right down to it… but hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

They worked together to make an appropriate pile of kindling that would last for hours.

“John, would you please do the honors?”

Harold handed the ignitor over to John and he lit the tinder.

John got the fire worked into a nice warm blaze and Harold took his suit coat off and rolled up his sleeves. He took a few pieces of clothing from the suitcase and rolled them up to help support his lower back and hip later on when they would try and get some sleep.

It was dusk and the temperature was dropping off as they settled in beside each other just as the sun set.

“You aren’t getting chilly, Finch?” John asked as he watched his partner roll up his shirt sleeves. He himself was starting to catch a chill as the breeze picked up.

“No, I’m quite comfortable at the moment John. Thank you all the same.” What Harold didn’t volunteer was that he was starting to feel hot and was actually starting to sweat. He felt a severe headache coming on as well as muscle aches. It was seven hours past the time he needed to take his last round of meds and feared what was coming… withdrawal.

_Why had he been so careless_? He chastised himself, for his stupidity. He normally carried some Vicodin on him but opted to keep them all in his briefcase this time since the flight wasn’t going to be very long.

John would know soon enough, he didn’t want him to worry about him before it was absolutely necessary and ideally John would get some rest before he found out.

“John… you should get some sleep, I’ll try shortly.”

“I’m not really tired yet, it’s still early, why don’t we go over the plans for getting us out of this predicament?”

The shakes were already starting and Harold decided to let John know now what he should expect to see from him, as embarrassing and shameful as he felt about the situation.

Harold took a deep breath feeling himself already descending into sickness, almost to the point of throwing up… that would come soon enough.

“John… I’m quite uncomfortable about the situation and I loathe to have to tell you but it’s important that you know… I’m going to become very sick… very soon.”

John looked at him keenly. He was reminded then what seemed to be happening to his unfortunate partner. Harold had sweat trickling down the sides of his face and he was trembling.

“It's withdrawal, isn’t it?” He asked knowingly.

Harold looked away and nodded as his teeth began to chatter and he wrapped his arms around himself.

“Shit Harold…” John immediately felt terrible for not recognizing the symptoms sooner.

“Where’s the flashlight? I’ll find your briefcase.” John started to get up until Harold grabbed him by the arm to stop him.

“Don’t be ridiculous John… It’s far too dark now. We have no idea what could be out there. There could be snakes… even bears and I won’t have you risking your safety for this. When it’s light again we can look at that time. Please don’t trouble yourself tonight.”

“Harold, I’ve seen what you’re going to go through and I don’t know if I’ll be able to sit by and watch it happen.”

“I don’t want it either John but there’s no other choice right now. I feel so stupid and irresponsible for not keeping a supply with me. It’s rather embarrassing and I really hate that you will have to see me so useless and vulnerable.”

“Harold…” John put his hand on Finch’s forearm and felt the perspiration and the trembling beneath it and felt his heart constrict for the pain and suffering his partner was going to have to endure.

“At first light, I’m going to find your medicine and I won’t have an argument about it… is that understood?” John smiled warmly at Harold and got a shivering nod in return.


	3. Chapter 3

Harold was a mess. The shakes had become so bad that every few minutes Harold’s whole body quaked and he couldn’t suppress a whimper escaping his lips. John was huddled up around the fire, feeling terrible for him. He wanted to grab Harold and pull him in close but knew that Harold wouldn't like that right now. He barely even wanted a blanket on him.

Every time Harold tried to take a sip of water he ended up spilling it down the front of himself. John quickly got up and helped him drink, steadying his head with one large hand and holding the water bottle to Harold's mouth with the other. 

John ran his hand through Harold's sweat drenched hair, “you’re gonna be okay…” he murmured soothingly to him. “We’ll find your meds in the morning and you’ll feel better…”

Harold’s body kept shaking involuntarily. It wasn’t only the shakes… he was throwing up now, unable to keep down the tiny bit of liquid in his system. John had given him a bowl from their luggage so he wouldn't just be throwing up on the ground. Every now and then, John would get up and clean it out. _In sickness and health._ John chuckled solemnly to himself. 

“You have to keep trying to drink some water Harold, you’re going to get dehydrated.” John had told him one of the times he came back from cleaning out the bowl. 

“Don’t you think I already know that John? Do you think I’m trying to be sick?” He snapped at him and grabbed the bowl quickly out of his partner's hands and retched again “I’m sorry…” He retreated after he saw the look on John's face. He took another small sip and laid back and closed his eyes. His shirt was drenched with sweat and water and he took deep breaths in between the full body tremors.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” John asked, putting a sweatshirt on that he had packed in his luggage. 

“Not at the moment John… it’s hot and cold at times but right now I don’t think I could stand anything covering me up. Please try and get some rest; I don’t want you worrying about me.”

“You’re my partner Finch… of course I worry.”

Harold smiled as best as he could manage as he shook and trembled.

John watched him closely. “Shaw and Root are going to find us…”

Except John didn’t really hold out much hope they’d be able to find them. John’s phone was nowhere to be found… Harold’s was beyond repair… even Root may not be able to trace it. The transmitter in the plane was damaged during the crash.

They were _stranded_.

#

John didn’t get any sleep. But neither did Harold who was vomiting all night. The shakes had calmed down some… but John only assumed that was from exhaustion. John had stayed up all night to keep the fire going and to watch to make sure that Harold's chest kept rising and falling. 

The sun was just starting to rise so John went over close to his partner, “hey… I’m gonna go look for your briefcase…” He put his hand to Harold’s forehead to make him focus, “Harold, hey look at me. I need you to stay here…” All Harold did was groan and roll over.

John’s head fell in frustration, “please just… stay here…” He patted him on the shoulder.

He put on a new sweatshirt from his suitcase and changed into some sweatpants. He knelt down and kissed the older trembling man on the forehead, “I’ll be back soon.”

John made his way down to the stream that they found Harold’s suitcase in. He figured if they found one there then the other might be somewhere around. He had to find it… withdrawal symptoms could go on for days or longer… and if no one found them... John didn’t want Harold to have to go through this for that long. It could possibly even kill him.

He searched for the briefcase carefully, not wanting to miss it. He thought he found it a couple times... but it just turned out to be nothing. The hunger must have been getting to him because his stomach was growling and his mouth was dry. Luckily he brought a bottle of water with him.  

After what seemed like an hour of limping around with no luck, he saw it. The dark brown leather briefcase was lying under a bunch of leaves. The only reason John noticed it was because of the glare that the shiny metal handle provided.

He ran over to it as fast as he could, falling to his knees to grab it and ripped it open. The pills were in fact right there. John let out an immediate sigh of relief that came out like a choked sob. He grabbed the case and took off towards where he left Harold.

When he came back, he noticed that Harold was still laying on the blanket that they had set out under the shelter. He was still shaking and sweating and by the looks of it… vomiting. John knelt down next to him and rolled him over to face him, “I found it, Harold…” He grabbed a bottle of water from their stash and lifted up Harold’s head.

“Leave me alone…” Harold murmured and slapped John’s hands away, “Nnnnathan I told you we ssshhhouldn’t have gone drinking…”

John smirked at the flashback/hallucination Harold was having. Even though the situation was desperate and he felt horrible for his partner… he needed _something_ to smile about. To take away from the hole he felt in his chest caused by the thought of he and Harold dying out here.

“My thhhesis presentation is in an hour…” Harold groaned out. John smiled sadly and picked the older man up, propping him up against the edge of the shelter.

“Here… take these Harold…” He opened Harold’s mouth and set two of his pills onto his tongue. “They’ll help with the hangover…”

Harold swallowed the pills down with the help of John who held the water bottle to his mouth. He helped Harold lie back down, “you should start feeling better soon…” He pushed the sweaty matted hair back from Harold’s forehead, “I’ll get us some breakfast as soon as I’m sure they stay down and had enough time to help.”

#

“Don’t talk about food…” Harold fell back into a fitful state of semi-consciousness. 

John watched him tremble, taking note after a while that he seemed to rest a little easier. The medication seemed to have started to work. Thankfully Harold had been able to keep it down.

Once John had decided it would be alright to leave Harold, he left him sleeping after covering him with a blanket.

His leg was throbbing relentlessly but he couldn’t worry about himself right now, he had to make sure Finch was back on the way to being his old self again. He put his own pain aside as he limped around the bush in search of berries to supplement the granola and peanuts they had stashed away. Harold hadn’t been able to eat and he rationed himself so there was a fair amount left over.

He found a variety of wild berries and was satisfied with his haul. He expected to see Harold at least upright when he returned a couple of hours later. But all he saw was his partner still lying in a heap on the ground. Snuggled up to his blanket like someone was trying to steal it. 

John went over to him, “Finch?” He put a hand on his partner's shoulder and still felt a tremendous amount of heat coming from his body. He should not be this hot. “Harold…? Wake up I need to check you out.” Harold was laying on his side shivering and John was getting nervous again when all he got was weak groan in response. “Harold turn over here and let me look at you.” John helped Finch to lay supine while he put his jacket under his head.

"John… I’m freezing… is there another blanket?” He wheezed. Harold was having trouble breathing and John recognized the symptoms immediately. As he put his hands to Harold’s sweaty face his temperature was off the charts.

“My chest hurts... John.” Harold was short of breath and winced as he panted out the words.

“I’m sorry Finch.” John’s fears were confirmed… Harold had pneumonia. John checked his pulse, weak and thready. He put his ear to Harold's back and told him to cough, which brought out a pained groan from his partner. What he heard inside Harold's chest was not promising. His lungs were likely filled with phlegm. He helped his sick partner lie back down, and laid the back of his hand to his forehead to feel Harold's temperature. He had a fever... but it wasn't terrible yet. 

He must have developed it overnight as his body went through withdrawal. His system must have had the bacteria in stasis and had been compromised. He must have caught a chill or something to kick it into motion and manifest into the deadly disease.

Violent chills traveled through Harold’s body racking his damaged spine while his temperature seemed to climb by the second. John wiped the sweat from his face and hung his head as Finch began to cough painfully. There was nothing he could do but try and calm the tortuous shudders assaulting his partner’s body relentlessly.

John tried not to panic but it was useless; Harold was in dire straits and John had no access to the antibiotics that could help him through it. This could very well end up killing his partner and he was now scared to death. Their only hope at this point was Root and Shaw.


	4. Chapter 4

Shaw made her way down into the subway. She had just finished with their latest number. John and Harold ditched them yesterday to go to some cabin in the woods. Shaw thought the whole thing was pretty annoying if you asked her.

On the other hand, even though she would chew off her own hand before she admitted it… she was going to enjoy the alone time with Root.

“Hear from the dopey lovers yet?” Shaw asked as she plopped down into a chair.

“No…” Root looked down at her fingers that were on the keyboard and sighed. “I’m a little worried… this isn’t like Harry…”

Shaw looked at the map brought up on the computer screen. “What’s that?” She pointed to a red dot that was highlighted.

“That’s where their phones lost service…” She clicked off the map, “I’d assume it was because of the woods and that they just don’t have service… but they should have contacted us by now…”

“Maybe they’re just having too much fun,” Shaw said, trying her best to not act worried.

Root smiled in return, “you’re right… I’m just worrying too much… let’s go get something to eat.” She stood up and called for Bear to follow.

#

John searched what they had on the plane. He was looking for something that he could use for an IV. If he could get one started and get fluids into Harold, he would be able to keep him better hydrated and keep him alive longer.

He had already found some tubing that he could use… the extremely well stocked first aid kit had sterilization materials and a needle as well… leave it to Finch to have almost everything for emergencies of all kinds.

The CIA had taught him well; he had the knowledge and thankfully the supplies to make a make-shift IV solution. All he needed now was something to keep the saline in.

After some searching and not finding anything, he chose to dump out the remaining granola that was in a plastic bag in with the peanuts.

Once he brought all the items back over, he sat down next to Harold. “Hey, Finch…” He nudged the older man who was asleep, “wake up… I’m gonna start you on this IV... you need fluids.”

Harold groaned weakly and tried to sit up, “how long has it been?” He asked, looking around to try to gather himself.

“We crashed yesterday afternoon…” John said, getting even more nervous at Harold’s mental state. “Come on…” He put his hand on Harold’s trembling back to help him sit up straight.

He rolled up Harold’s sleeve and tied a ripped-up part of a shirt around his bicep. “Little pinch here, Harold…” John said as he stuck the needle into Harold’s arm.

After a small hiss of pain, Harold handled the situation rather well. John hung the bag up on the roof of their small make-shift shelter. “I need you to try to eat something Harold…” John fixed the jacket that Harold was lying on and also added another sweatshirt to it so that he could be propped up more.

“I’m not… hungry…” Harold wheezed out. He laid back down… settling himself on the pillow John had made him.

“I know but please…” John grabbed one of the packages of crackers from their bag of food, “please just try.” He opened it with shaky hands, the exhaustion from no sleep and even less food were starting to take its toll. Not to mention the throbbing in his leg was starting to get worse.

Harold sighed and took the cracker from his partner, “Thank you, John…” He took a small nibble, “I’m terribly sorry for this…” John didn’t say anything; he put the back side of his hand to Harold’s forehead to feel that he was still burning up.

“It’s not your fault Harold…” John huffed and laid down next to the older man. “Let’s get some sleep…” He wrapped Harold in a couple of blankets and pulled one over himself. Once he pulled Harold close, he ran his fingers through his hair, “just as long as you promise me you’re going to wake up…” He whispered into Harold’s ear, terrified he was going to lose his partner to this sickness.

After a while with no answer, John figured Harold was already asleep. Then he heard a low whispery wheeze, “I promise.”

John let out a breath and kissed the back of Harold’s neck. He held Harold close as he trembled with fever. Fortunately, his breathing had slowed down and John was sure he was sleeping.

He stared at the moon for a while, looking at the stars… hoping that somehow Shaw and Root had figured out they were missing and they were trying to find them. Because Harold wouldn’t make it much longer without treatment.

After a while, his eyes fluttered shut and he finally fell into a light sleep.

#

John woke up in a cold sweat; his leg was throbbing ten times worse than it was yesterday. He pulled his pants off to look at the wound, removing the bandaging as well. When he did, he saw that it was inflamed and it was turning a ghastly greenish color.

He had been so worried about Harold… he’d forgotten to take care of his leg and change the bandages to avoid infection. He grabbed the first aid kit and ran some water over the gash. Harold woke up and rolled over to look at his partner.

“John what are you…” His eyes widened, “Oh my God.” Harold struggled to sit up, which brought on a painful coughing fit.

“Harold… relax… I’m taking care of it.” John put his hand on the older man’s shoulder, “please… lay back down; you should get some more rest.”

“I’ve been doing nothing but resting…” Harold hissed back, “tell me what to do so I can help…”

John gave in, “Fine. Help me with the bandages when I get to that part.”

John ran more water over it and dried it off. He tried to clean it out as best as he could. His eyebrows wrinkled in concentration as he removed the damaged infected flesh.

Harold’s eyes grew wide at the barbaric sight… but knew that John knew what he was doing.

Then he applied some more of the anti-bacterial ointment over it and had Harold wrap the wound and tape it down.

“Perfect… thanks, Finch.” John smiled and Harold smiled back but was already weakening in his state. He laid back down with a grunt. The shivering had settled some… John figured it was thanks to the fluids… but Harold’s IV was already almost gone and he didn’t have much in the way of supplies to make much more.

#

“John…” Harold opened his eyes to look into John’s.

“Yeah Finch.”

“You should try to find some help.” Harold was in pain, his chest felt like a great weight sat on it and it was getting harder to breathe. He couldn’t stop coughing and his ribs were sore from the retching he’d been doing so much of. He was so weak now he found it difficult to move.

“I can’t leave you, Harold. Hell, we don’t even know where the hell we are… we could be fifty miles from anywhere.”

“John, if you don’t try we’ll both die… and I wouldn’t be able to stand it if you didn’t make it on my account.”

John sat for a long while contemplating what he should do. Finch was right. He would probably get out alive with his skills for survival but if he did nothing Harold would most likely not make it. He wouldn’t be able to stand watching that happen. He had to get him help before it was too late. Harold’s symptoms were progressively getting worse; He didn’t have much time left.

John had made a make-shift crutch to help him get around last night while he watched Harold suffer through the coughing and pain of his aching body, groaning with each vicious jolt of his abdomen. His pain medication didn’t seem to be doing him much good with relieving his prior injuries, the aches and pains consumed his entire body.

He went over to Harold, “I don’t want to leave you alone…” He said, kneeling next to the sick man.

“I’ll be… fffine, John…” Harold trembled, “please… You need to go for help. Don’t think I can’t read your expression…” Harold sat up, using almost all of his strength for the basic task, “I don’t have much…” Harold started to cough up more mucus that had filled his lungs, “much longer… and you know it.”

John frowned, “Okay…” He held back tears, “I’ll be back soon with help. Promise me you’ll still be here when I get back.”

Harold grinned as optimistically as he could, “You can’t get rid of me that easily, John… please go so you can hurry and get back.”

John smiled and pulled his partner to him gently but with urgency; their lips meeting for a warm, tender kiss.

“I love you,” John croaked out as he pulled away and looked at his partner.

“I’ll say it when you get back…” Harold whispered with a smile, using what strength he had left to run his hands through John’s black and graying locks.

#

Harold knew the odds were stacked against him but if John could get out alive he would be more than happy with the outcome. John was still young and strong and he could carry on with whatever he decided to do with the rest of his life.

He would love for the ex-op to continue their mission without him but he knew it would be difficult, just the same as it would be for him to continue without John. He wouldn’t ask John the difficult question for fear of him thinking that he was giving up; he could only hope that whatever the future held for him he would be happy in it with no regrets.

John made sure Harold was as comfortable as possible and had food and water at arm’s reach. He built up the fire and put smaller pieces of firewood near him also so he wouldn’t have to try and pick up the heavier sections and completely deplete his strength to keep the flames going.

Harold watched him prepare for his journey with heavy eyelids and a heavier heart. Secretly he was sure that he wouldn’t be alive for John when he got back but he would never speak of his fear to him.

He would never consciously want to put that inevitability into his partner’s thoughts. John had enough to worry about on his own. He was injured too and as much as Harold worried about whether he would live to see John’s gorgeous blue eyes again… he also worried for John’s safety and silently prayed that he would make it out of this alive.

“You should be alright for a while… I don’t intend to be away for long.” John knelt down and caressed Harold’s scorching face. “Hang on Harold.” He leaned in and brushed his partner’s lips with his own then pushed himself up from the ground and made his way east, looking back one more time to the face he had come to love.

“I’ll be waiting…” Harold smiled as best as he could and watched as John limped through the brush, he closed his eyes branding the vision of John’s gorgeous face into his memory.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger... I know... I'm evil.

John limped through the woods, marking each tree that he needed to so that he could find his way back.

It was the early morning… so it wouldn’t be dark for a long while. He had no idea where they were… he was hoping he could find a road or a river or something that would lead him to some type of civilization.

He found some more berries, picking them and placing them in the pack that he had brought with him. He also filled up some of their empty water bottles with some water from a tiny stream running through his path that he could boil over the fire to kill any parasites if it came to them having to drink it.

All he could hope for now was just one lucky break. So that he could get Harold the help he needed.

#

Apparently, he couldn’t catch a break even with Harold knocking on death’s door. It had been hours and John figured he must have traveled at least two miles with no luck of finding any signs of a human presence. The sun would be setting soon and he needed to get back to Harold.

Turning around, he set back for their base. He hoped that Harold would be okay… he knew that he didn’t have much time left. If they didn’t get rescued… Harold probably wouldn’t make it more than another two or three days. The disease was taking over his lungs and it wouldn’t be long before he wouldn’t be able to breathe at all…

#

It was dusk when the shelter came into John’s line of sight. The part of him that wasn’t in ruins by the reality of his past life… hoped to see Harold up and by the fire… but what he saw was Harold lying on a blanket and the fire had all but burned out.

John limped as fast as he could over to his partner, “Harold? I’m back… I couldn’t find any signs of civilization… but I did get us some more berries and water and…” When Harold didn’t respond, John threw his crutch down along with his pack. “Harold?” He fell to his knees and gently rolled his partner over to face him.

Harold was pale and ashen, trembling and visibly laboring for breath. His eyes were closed and his expression was of someone who was in a tremendous amount of pain.

John had seen this look before and it filled him with dread.

He’d seen it in the army once when one of the men in his group had been too close to a landmine blast. Causing his lung to collapse and a massive pneumothorax. Harold’s lung was collapsed just the same only this was due to pneumonia.

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to find something… remembering the needle he used for Harold’s IV, he grabbed the first-aid kit as quickly as he could and grabbed the needle and syringe.

He ripped open Harold’s shirt, which elicited a groan from the older man. He ran some of the disinfectant over Harold’s chest, “a lot of pressure here Harold, but then you’ll feel better…”

John placed the needle over his partner’s chest, “one… two…” John stuck the needle deep into his chest, causing a sharp intake of breath from his partner and then a strong coughing fit.

Except this was a good coughing… this coughing meant that Harold could breathe. John released the air from Harold’s chest cavity, partially reinflating his lung. “There you go…” John soothed and lifted Harold’s limp torso up, setting his partner’s head in his lap. “Deep breaths…” He wiped the sweat from Harold’s forehead.

John’s sudden relief at his good fortune was cut short by the realization that Harold wouldn’t stay like this for long. His lung would collapse again. Maybe in a few days… maybe hours… but it would happen again.

And there may not be anything John could do if it happened again.

John wrapped a blanket around his partner and leaned down to press a kiss to his temple. “Just keep breathing for me, Harold…”

#

“John…?” Finch was in bad shape and was barely able to produce more than a whisper.

“I’m here…” John turned his head away and bit back a sob. He felt that his world was coming to an end and he could do nothing about it but watch and it was killing him inside.

“John… I’m sorry,” Harold whispered weakly.

“Sorry for what, Harold?” John choked out unable to keep the tears at bay any longer.

“For Jessica.” Tears started to stream from Harold’s closed eyelids as he apologized over and over again for not being able to act in time to save John’s past love.

“I’m so sorry… John… I’m…” Harold fell into unconsciousness and fought to breathe while John held his still body close to him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Harold… it wasn’t your fault,” he repeated as he rocked his partner’s lax body in his arms.

John held him in his arms for a long while then gently laid him down and watched his breaths shallow into almost nothing.

The fire needed to be stoked not only for heat but for light to see by but John was hesitant to let go of Harold’s hand.

Finally, he laid his hand beside him and got up to add firewood to the pyre and stoked it to a bright blaze in which he could better keep an eye on his partner.

He took Harold’s hand in his own again and brought it to his lips. “Please don’t leave me.” His partner didn’t stir a muscle and John’s depression and concern hit an all-time high as he lay awake waiting for his partner to leave him.

#

John laid next to his partner and held him close. It was dark, and Harold hadn’t woken up all day. John hadn’t moved from that spot except to poke the fire and keep it going.

He had Harold wrapped snugly in two blankets and had slid a sweatshirt over him. The last of the IV fluid ran out about an hour ago. Harold’s breathing had become much shallower and labored at times.

John thought Harold had stopped breathing once… but when he quickly felt for a pulse, luckily he found it. Faint and weak… but there.

He set his hand onto Harold’s cheek, “You know I won’t be able to do it without you, right?” He pronounced sadly.

He stared at Harold’s silent, emotionless face; feeling as though his world was about to end.

“I know you’ll want me to keep working the numbers…” John choked out a sob, “but I won’t. I _can’t_.”

John saw one of his own tears fall down onto Harold’s face. He gently wiped it off with his thumb, “I love you…” John brought him up into a hug and sobbed, rocking his unconscious partner back and forth again. “Always.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Vacation is over now so I'll try to keep updating every day or every other day!

The sobs that wracked John’s body calmed down and he sniffled.

Then he heard something.

Something that sounded a hell of a lot like a helicopter.

He sprang to his feet and ran out into one of the openings close by to them. He had made the fire big enough for people to see the smoke… but it was pitch black out… they probably wouldn’t be able to see them unless they spotted the fire.

He waved his arms and started screaming… he saw the helicopter go by without even slowing down… He fell to his knees and pounded his hands into the ground.

That was their one chance.

Before he knew it, the chopper was back and hovering over where he was. He limped out of the way, falling to the ground with the force of the chopper blades. There was a bark… that distinct bark of the Belgian Malinois that John had grown to love.

He was being licked and pinned to the ground by the dog before he knew it.

“Bear, down!” He heard a women’s voice yell. “I can’t leave you two idiots alone for a day and you go and crash a damn plane?”

_Shaw._

“Harold… he’s bad…” John choked out, “up that hill…” He pointed to the spot where they had set up camp. Shaw ran up the hill and Root followed her with a bag of medical supplies over her shoulder, calling for Bear to follow.

John managed to get to his feet, making his way over to the others. He saw Shaw kneeling over Harold… and what she was doing made his heart drop into his stomach… She was doing CPR…

Harold must have stopped breathing when he left to go after the helicopter.

He ran over to them, “Shaw…?” He asked, staring at the horrific sight in front of them. “Shaw… is he…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Shaw!” He yelled this time.

Root was at Harold’s head; with an Ambu-bag over Harold’s nose and mouth, squeezing it every few seconds to force air into his lungs.

John couldn’t move… couldn’t do anything… he was frozen. He knew he should help… but he _couldn’t move._ He saw the look on Shaw’s face as she looked to Root and he almost threw up.

“Tell me something, damn it!” Reese hissed, tears streaming down his face.

Shaw finished her last round of compressions and grabbed the portable defibrillator from the bag that John distantly recognized as the one Root had over her shoulder earlier.

She pulled up Harold’s shirt and stuck the pads to his chest. She hit the button to charge it and looked to Root to stand back.

John heard the sound of the defibrillator charging and then Harold’s whole body went rigid and arched up off of the board that John hadn’t even noticed he was lying on before now.

Shaw put her hands to Harold’s neck, she let out a breath and told Root to keep breathing for him with the Ambu-bag.

“Wh… what?” John gasped, hot tears streaking down his face. His eyes were red and puffy… he didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t slept in two days or if it was because his partner was dying in front of him.

“He’s breathing,” she said shortly and John felt like the world was going to implode in on him. “Can you help carry him?” She asked calmly. Not even phased.

“I... uh… what?” John asked, absolutely lost. He was just staring at his partner.

“John…” Shaw grabbed his arm. “Help me carry him… Root has to keep helping him breathe…” She said with a lot more sympathy than he expected.

“I thought you said he was breathing…” John said, dazed.

“He is… but he needs a little help. We need to get him out of these woods now, okay?” She smiled sadly to him… He looked down at her arm on his shoulder and then nodded.

He made his way over to the side of the board and picked it up when Shaw did. They made their way to the helicopter. John kept watch on Harold’s chest, the rise and fall of his chest giving him comfort; even though he knew it was assisted by medical equipment.

They lifted Harold into the helicopter. John looked to Shaw, who nodded for him to go in first. Root followed and continued to ventilate Harold. Shaw hopped in and looked to the ex-op, “I have to fly this thing… so I need you to watch him… okay?”

John nodded, not looking up from Harold’s body. Shaw set a pair of headphones over her ears and grabbed another pair from the wall of the chopper and set them over John’s ears as well. “Can you hear me?”

John nodded again.

“I’m starting him on an IV…” She paused, just now noticing the needle mark in Harold’s arm. “What did you give him?” Shaw asked.

“Saline… I did the best I could,” he whispered, “when he started getting bad… I didn’t know what else to do…” He said in a desperate tone.

“You did good, John…” She smiled sadly again. “I’m starting him on fluids and antibiotics right now…” She injected Harold’s arm and started him on multiple drips. “There…” She hooked him up to a heart monitor as well, “John… If anything changes I need you to tell me ASAP so I can tell you what to do… Root can help you too…”

Root looked up from Harold and the side of her mouth quirked up in a sad smile.

“You think you can do that, pretty boy?” Shaw asked with a smirk, trying to get John’s attention. When all he did was nod, she frowned and made her way to the front of the helicopter… after a nod to Root as to say, ‘watch him.'

John sat down next to his partner. His emotionless face looked at the sick man and he enclosed his hand around the pale one that was hanging off of the gurney they sat the backboard on once they got into the chopper.

“Root… make sure Bear is settled before take-off.”

“Got it… we’re ready Sameen.”

“Stay with me…” John leaned in and whispered in Harold’s ear.


	7. Chapter 7

Halfway into the flight, Harold began coughing and gasping for air. He was semi-conscious now at least but that didn’t mean much in his condition; It really only meant he would be awake to feel the pain in his body and the lack of oxygen in his lungs.

Harold wasn’t aware of anything much going on around him but he knew enough to realize that John was there with him and that at least made it a little easier to bear.

John feared the worst when Harold opened his eyes weakly and met his own with resignation and acceptance that he was going to die.

“Damn you, Finch… don’t you dare give up. Not now… not when there’s hope,” John ordered. 

Harold was in an altered state of reality. It was as if he were deaf and in limbo. He could no longer feel anything and it was an immense task to keep his eyes from closing.

He could see John pleading for him to fight but he couldn’t bring himself to want to. He felt serene and welcomed the state of feeling detached from the constant pain that he endured. 

He gathered all the strength he could muster and requested weakly, “Let me go…”

John’s heart constricted painfully and Root choked out a sob and looked at John’s expression of grief and felt her own heart clench.

“Please… I can’t.” John’s eyes filled with tears so that all he could see was Harold’s pleading ones through the blurriness until they overflowed. 

Then Harold stopped breathing again, his dimming eyes still open and locked onto John’s.

“Harry!” Root cried.

“Move!” John exclaimed and began with CPR for the second time.

“Shaw, he’s stopped breathing again. How long until we’re there!?” John yelled as he pumped Harold’s chest furiously and Root blew air into his lungs in turns.

“Five minutes!” She yelled back, “Keep breathing for him.”

John kept on with chest compressions until he thought he might have cracked a rib. The adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream made it difficult to keep a handle on his own strength and he was going to feel terrible if it turned out to be true.

“Root change positions with me but be careful with his ribs,” John ordered and she complied as she sobbed quietly.

They continued breathing for him until they landed a couple of hundred yards from the cabin that was supposed to be their much-deserved vacation retreat for the weekend.

Shaw jumped in the back, “Move!” She ordered and they both moved back as Shaw evaluated the current situation.

“We need to use the paddles again…hand them over now!” Root handed her the machine and Shaw adjusted the voltage meter.

“Clear!” She administered the shock once and waited as she looked at the readout. “Again!”

A second jolt still garnered no acceptable result and John fell back against the inside of the chopper in sorrow. His head falling to his hands and he choked out a sob. 

“Once more… Clear!” The third jolt finally did the trick and Shaw got Harold’s heart beating…weak and thready but clearly there.

John rallied himself and immediately went to Harold’s side while Root composed herself as well and jumped out of the helicopter to be ready to move Harold into the cabin.

“We have to move him inside quickly,” Shaw instructed. "We don't have time to get him to a hospital..." 

John quickly caressed his partners face lovingly then jumped outside with Root to help pull the backboard with the man that he loved securely fastened to it out of the copter.

Shaw continued pumping the Ambu-bag to make it easier to keep oxygen flowing through Harold’s lungs as John and Root carried him inside the cabin and into the medical wing that are standard in all of Harold’s properties.

#

John sat back and watched in misery as Root and Shaw hurriedly worked on Harold. Shaw inserted a chest tube for his collapsed lung. Harold woke up in agony during the procedure... but Shaw quickly sedated him and he fell back asleep. John was at his side in a second comforting him and holding his hand.

Shaw assured John that he wouldn't remember it.

He almost crashed twice more before they finally got him stabilized. Shaw said she didn’t need to intubate him right now… but that might change.

She put him in a sling for his injured shoulder also.

Once she was satisfied that Harold was out of the woods to immediate danger, she went over to John who was sitting in a chair by the wall watching everything that happened.

“You got anything I need to look at?” She asked, placing her hand on his thigh. The knee-jerk response when she touched his leg was all she needed to know. She frowned, “lie down on the table, John.”

“No… just worry about Harold…” He replied without taking his eyes off of the older man.

“He’s okay for right now… Root will look after him.” Once he didn’t move, she continued, “we won’t even leave the room… you’ll be in here the whole time…” She smiled, “you know Harold would want you to take care of it…”

He looked at her and glared, “fine…” He stood up and limped over to the exam table. He paused and stared at the blood that was on it… _Harold’s blood_ leftover from Shaw’s hands after she inserted the chest tube.

Shaw hurried and cleaned off the table. “What happened?” She said as he laid down onto the table, situating himself so he could sit up.

“Shrapnel from the plane…” He started. Shaw’s eyes flickered up to him and went wide.

“That had to hurt like a bitch…” She paused and let out an exhausted breath after she cut away his pants and revealed the infected gash. “John…” She sighed, “I’ll clean it out… but I want you to stay off of it for a while.” She got up and started to get together all the instruments and supplies she needed.

“Okay,” he whispered. He turned his attention to Harold who was lying completely still in the bed. Root was sitting next to him, holding his hand.

“I didn’t know what else to do…” John whispered desperately. “He got so bad so fast…”

Shaw came back over and set everything down onto a sterile tray. “Yeah, that’s what pneumonia does.” She injected lidocaine into his leg, “you did everything you could, John…”

John just huffed and his head fell back to the back of the table, “it wasn’t enough.”

Shaw looked up to him, “yes it was…” She set down the instrument she was using to clean out his leg, “you saved him. He’s alive. So, quit pouting…”

There was nothing else to be said. Because Harold was alive. His heart was beating. He had survived. But that didn’t put John’s heart at ease because he could still lose him… Shaw even said so herself that he wasn’t completely out of the woods.

Shaw finished with his leg and brought in a pair of crutches for him. When she came back he was starting to stand up and get off the table, “Hey, I meant it. You need to stay off it.”

“Shaw…” He started and gave her an exasperated look.

“Take the damn crutches, John.” She pushed them to him and he took them begrudgingly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is. Thanks for going along on the journey! Hope you enjoyed!

Root had pulled a recliner to sit next to Harold’s bedside and John moved over and made himself as comfortable as he could under the circumstances then leaned back, propping his injured limb on the leg rest.

“Harry’s going to make it John… I just know he is.” Root squeezed John’s shoulder in an offer of comforting him.

John smiled faintly in acknowledgment of her effort.

“I just want him to wake up… if only for a minute,” John replied sadly.

“John…” Harold answered softly. “I’m here.”

John sat forward quickly hardly managing not to jar his leg painfully as he leaned towards his partner and took hold of his hand. 

“Harold…?” John felt a modicum of relief as Harold squeezed his hand weakly.

“I’ll be… okay…John,” he wheezed. “Thanks to you.” 

Shaw and Root stood around him as he opened his eyes and smiled faintly at them all. Shaw looked to the monitors and did a series of checks. When she breathed a big sigh of relief, John finally relaxed a tiny bit. 

“Thank you all,” Harold rasped. 

“Things are looking favorably Harold,” Shaw stated. “It’s all up from here.” 

“I’m so happy you’re going to be okay Harry.” Root leaned over and kissed his cheek. 

Harold smiled weakly and Shaw butted in, “Okay let’s get out of here and give the boys a little time alone.” 

She checked the IV lines that were administering the high potency antibiotics and pain medicine and pulled Root with her by the arm. 

“We’ll be back shortly; we’ll check on Bear… you two behave yourselves.”

John stood up so Harold didn’t have to crane his neck to see him. “You had me worried, Mister Finch,” he teased.

Harold looked into John’s glistening eyes and smiled at him lovingly. 

John sat back down in his chair and looked at his partner with tears in his eyes. He didn’t say anything. The words were stuck in his throat. 

“I love you too,” Harold started. After John gave him a confused look, he continued, “I never got to say it when you got back… I promised.” 

John started to chuckle, “well I guess we get to spend a vacation out here anyways.” John smirked, “even if we are both stuck on bed rest.”  

“Yes… I suppose…” Harold tried to situate himself so that he could sit up a little bit. John moved to help him, propped a few pillows under him and pushed the button for the bed to sit up. “How’s your leg?” 

“It’s good. Shaw fixed it up,” Reese sighed and ran his hands over his face in exhaustion. He looked to his partner, “but don’t worry about me anymore… how are you feeling?” 

“Fine…” He looked down at his side and just now noticed the chest tube. He grimaced and let out a breath. “What’s that for?”

“Your lung collapsed yesterday…” John sat forward, “it’ll be able to come out in a few days… don’t worry.” John leaned forward and grabbed his partner’s hand. 

“Thank you, John…” Harold breathed out. 

“For what?” John asked ruefully. He felt horrible that Harold had to suffer for so long and that he couldn’t do much to help him. Having to sit back and watch the person you love most in the world suffer like that... it ruined John. He was a mess. 

“You did everything you could… John…” Harold looked at his partner, “If it wasn’t for you… I wouldn’t have made it.” 

Just then Shaw came back into the room, “Okay, hate to break up this cute little scene… but I need to start Harold on some new antibiotics.” She brought in a new bag of fluid. “It’s a good thing you keep all your properties so well stocked Harold.” She smirked at him when she added the new bag to his array of IV meds.

“Yes, well I was voted most organized in High School Miss Shaw,” Harold replied. His voice was starting to slur and his eyes becoming glassy from the drugged haze he was entering. 

John grinned at his foggy partner and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently to remind him that he was there. Harold squeezed his partner’s hand in return, looking up at him… “John… did you tell Miss Shaw about how I was a boy scout?”

John grinned, “No… no, I didn’t Harold…” 

Shaw came over and connected another syringe to Harold’s IV line, decompressing it to release a steady flow of pain medication, “Finch? A boy scout? I don’t believe it…” She grinned to John and Root… All clearly enjoying their employer drugged up to his eyeballs and senseless. They needed something to smile about after the past couple of hours. 

“Oh yes, I was quite talented… Ask John…” Harold’s eyes slipped shut but he kept talking, “I even… even…” Harold trailed off and fell into a drug-induced slumber. 

John sighed and let out a breath. Finally relaxing a small measure.

Shaw put her hand to his shoulder, “he’s going to be fine, John.” She knelt down in front of him, “I can give you something… help you sleep?” She frowned, “Because I have a strange feeling you didn’t get much while you were out there…” 

He looked to her and smiled sadly, “I’m fine… I want to stay awake… Make sure he’s okay.” He turned his attention back to Harold who was sleeping peacefully in his bed. If it weren’t for the sling and chest tube… the occasional cut and bruise… John wouldn’t even know anything was wrong. 

“Okay…” She replied. There was no use arguing, “but if you need anything… please just tell me.” 

He nodded, “I will…” He turned his attention back to his partner.

Shaw and Root were making their way out of the room when John cleared his throat, “thank you… both of you…”

They looked to each other and smiled, then made their way out to the front deck, maybe they would get some R&R after all.

#

Harold woke up later that night. He looked over to see John dozing in the chair. He tried to stifle a cough he felt coming up but failed. He doubled over and threw his hands to his chest in pain.

John jumped awake and was at his side in a second. He put his hands gently onto Harold’s back, “hey… hey, it’s okay…” He grabbed the glass of water off the bedside table and helped Harold drink it. The water soothing his sore inflamed throat.

“Thank you…” Harold’s head fell to the pillow, “sorry I woke you…”

“Don’t worry about it…” John ran his fingers through his partner’s sweat-drenched hair, “do you need anything else?”

“No… I’m fine…” Harold smiled to his partner and pursed his lips… “You know… the last kiss we had was... under some not so favorable circumstances…”

John grinned at his partner, “I think Shaw should start giving you these drugs more often.” He chuckled and leaned down to press a soft kiss on his partner’s lips.

Once they broke the kiss, Harold looked to the side of the bed that all the medical equipment wasn’t on, “I think there’s enough room for two…”

John smirked, “Shaw might yell at us…”

Harold winked, “When has that ever stopped us before…”

John gave in and sighed. He grabbed his crutches and made his way over to the side of the bed. He slipped under the covers with his partner. He put his arm around Harold’s waist, “feeling okay? I don’t want to hurt you…”

 

“I’m perfectly fine…” Harold whispered. He nudged his way closer to his partner and John tucked his head into the crook of Harold’s neck. Breathing in the scent of a man he thought he'd never be able to hold like this again. Never be able to feel the blood coursing through his veins again.

“Okay…” John sighed.

Harold felt him relax. Felt him unwind inch by tender inch. Finally, he felt John's breathing slow down and shallow out to a level of sleep. Harold smiled faintly to himself and let his eyes slip shut as well. Falling off into a worry-free slumber for the first time in a week.

#

Shaw and Root came in about two hours later to check on them. Shaw opened the door and immediately made to get John out of the bed, but Root grabbed her arm.

She shook her head with a smirk, “let them be…” She whispered as to not wake the boys up.

Shaw rolled her eyes and sighed. Letting them stay the way they were only because John needed sleep and this seemed to be the only way he would get it... At least that's what she told herself.

#

Harold was healing quicker than any of them expected. Shaw had removed the chest tube three days later. Harold wanted it out the following day, and he made them hear about it too. Turns out Harold’s as stubborn as an ox. As if they hadn’t already known that.

His ribs and chest were still sore. His cough was slowly receding. His shoulder remained in the sling.

John’s leg was healing nicely. After Shaw had lectured him about if he had let it go another couple of days he could have lost it… she let him ditch the crutches and walk with a cane.

He spent most of his nights in Harold’s bed with him. Curled over him like a protective blanket. Shaw practically had to pry the two of them away from each other so she could check them over and get Harold the medicine he needed.

Harold had gotten worse on the first night; John stayed up with him through the night, murmuring soft soothing declarations into his ear. Running his hands through his sweaty hair and rubbing his back until the fever broke finally the next morning.

#

Harold and John were out on the front porch relaxing in two plush sleeper chairs. Harold sighed and let his head fell back to the chair, “I guess we did end up getting our relaxing vacation after all…”

John smiled and got up. He limped over to his partner who was lying back in his chair, completely relaxed.

He bent down and looked him in the eyes. His ocean blue irises staring directly into Harold’s.

“John?” Harold asked, clearly confused.

“Don’t you ever think about giving up again…” John pressed his lips to his partner’s in urgency… “Because I can’t lose you.” Their lips met again and John ran trembling fingers through his partner’s hair. “Understand?” He pulled back, his lips red and puffy.

Harold answered him by cupping his face and wiping the two streaks of tears running down John’s cheeks with his thumbs and pressing his lips softly to John’s forehead, “Understood… We’ll be together for the rest of our lives John… however long that turns out to be.” Harold smiled lovingly into John’s eyes.

“That will be forever Finch, forever and always…”


End file.
